A Forgotten Past
by Lady Galadriel
Summary: *ON HIATUS* Fourteen years after the fall of Sauron, a new Enemy arises in the wastelands of Mordor. To save Middle Earth, an ancient Elven sorceress must be released from her state of punishment and redeem herself.
1. Prologue: Things Forgotten

**Disclaimer**

**All characters, lands, and historical background used in this work of fanfiction are property of J.R.R. Tolkien—or those who currently own his works. I take credit only for the original characters that are clearly not in any of his writings (and those should be apparent), as well as for the plotline. While I have tweaked certain aspects to match the storyline, I plead artistic license and hope that the honorable Tolkien is not turning in his grave.**

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Much can become lost in the Passage of Time, whether purposefully or no. There are some things that long to be forgotten by those who remember, but no matter how successfully those memories may fade from the mind, Time has a way of resolving all things. No matter our actions, there must always exist a balance the past, the present, and the future.

In the year 3019 of the Third Age of the Sun, the Dark Lord Sauron, the second greatest evil ever to exist in Arda, was finally destroyed. A great hobbit of the Shire, Frodo Baggins, journeyed through Middle-earth into the Black Lands of Mordor and cast the One Ring of the Dark Lord into the fires of Mount Doom. Two years later, he departed Middle-earth for the Undying Lands in the company of his uncle and fellow Ring-bearer, Bilbo Baggins, the great Wizard Gandalf the White, the Elven Queen Galadriel, and the Elven Lord Elrond of Rivendell.

With the fall of Sauron, it was believed that peace would finally reign in Middle-earth. King Elessar, the High King of Arnor and Gondor, strived to rebuild what had been corrupted and destroyed by the forces of darkness. Soon, the only remainder of Sauron's evil existed in the East, in the wastelands of Mordor.

But this peace was not to be. For there must always be a balance—and things that cannot be forgotten must come to pass.


	2. Evil Awakenings

Night had fallen quickly and silently. The air was still and quiet, heavy with moisture. Thick, dark clouds had threatened to break with rain the entire day but remained unyielding. As the night advanced, the need for relief only increased.

Two guards stood watch along the walls of the city of Minas Tirith. Their faces gleamed with sweat in the torchlight. One of the guards, older and grey, wiped his brow with a grubby piece of cloth.

'This heat is damn near unbearable,' he grumbled.

The other guard stood gazing into the East, towards the wasted land of Mordor. 'It's far too quiet,' he said, as if he had not heard his companion.

'Better quiet than listening to the screams of dying men,' responded the older guard grimly. 'That's what you would have heard fourteen years ago.'

'You speak as though I was not there,' said the other. 'One does not forget the sounds of war so easily. It would take a powerful magic to do so.'

His companion took a flask from a pouch on his belt and held it out. 'Would Gondor's finest ale do?' he asked with a grin.

The two remained quiet as they each took a few hearty swallows of the ale. After a few moments, the younger guard spoke.

'Something feels amiss—can you not sense it?'

The other guard swallowed another mouthful of ale. ' 'Tis nothing but the heat meddling with your brain. Doesn't help that you're staring off into the Black Land, either,' he added pointedly.

The younger shook his head and turned away. 'Perhaps you're right.' He took the flask back.

The hours passed by slowly as midnight drew near. Two other guards approached to take over their watch.

'Dead quiet tonight,' commented one of them. 'Seems almost two quiet, doesn't it?'

'I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks so,' remarked the younger guard, glancing at his companion.

'I'm telling you, it's the damn heat—'

A sudden boom of thunder interrupted him. Seconds later several flashes of lightning followed and then another eruption of thunder.

'We'll finally have some rain then,' the older guard remarked, clearly relieved as he looked upwards. 'It's about damn time.'

The midnight bell tolled and the guards changed positions; the first two retreated to the guardhouse. As they walked, however, the ground beneath them began to rumble slightly.

They stopped and looked at one another in bewilderment. The rumbling quickly intensified until they had to brace themselves to keep from falling over. Once more, the thunder and lightning began, and a strong wind blew eastward. The heavy storm clouds swiftly moved with the wind and seemed to settle above Mordor, with bright flashes of lightning and loud thunder emitting from them.

The guards looked to the sky. Stars glittered brightly overheard; not a single cloud was to be seen.

'What in the name of Heaven—' began the older guard.

An unearthly, shrieking sound filled the air, far worse than the cries of the Nazgûl. Not a single person remained asleep in Gondor following this fell sound. Children awoke crying in terror; men immediately reached for the nearest weapon. Many covered their ears to block out the horrible shrieks and cries that had so suddenly began.

It lasted several agonizing minutes, then ceased. All eyes were turned to the East—the Land of Mordor.

- - -

King Elessar awoke, the evil shrieking resonating throughout the night air. He rushed from his bed to the window, searching for the source of the terrible noise. Arwen, also awake, came and stood by him. When it became quiet once more, a slight shudder went through her body.

'What was that?' she whispered, her eyes wide with fright.

'I know not,' replied Elessar. His gaze remained fixed upon the Black Land.

For the past fourteen years, Mordor had remained silent and empty and Gondor was able to reside in peace. Evil had not stirred there since the destruction of Sauron, but now Elessar could sense a dark presence lurking within the renewed shadows. The once dead wasteland seemed to be coming to life.

He turned to Arwen. She was startled by the alarm she saw in his eyes. 'I fear that evil has awakened in Mordor. I must call for counsel at once.' He quickly dressed, kissed Arwen fiercely, and rushed from the room in search of a messenger. She stared after him for a few moments, then turned once more to the window.

'May Elbereth help us all.'

- - -

Within less than an hour, the entire city of Minas Tirith was in chaos. Many sought the King for counsel, and though unsure of what had occurred, he was able to calm those he encountered. He called to him several messengers, instructing them to send word to Lord Faramir, Lord Imrahil, Legolas, and Gimli to come to the city as soon as possible. He then called for extra guards to be posted along the walls, telling them to remain alert and report anything amiss that they might see or hear. Finally, he sent several horsemen from the city to patrol the borders of the land and report back at dawn.

Several hours later, though the air was charged with trepidation and alarm, Elessar had managed to reassure the people. Exhausted, he returned to his room where Arwen awaited him.

'Now we must wait,' he said to her.

- - -

In the Far West, in the great Elven city of Tirion, a voice spoke in the dreams of three sleeping minds.

'_For many years you fought against the evil of Melkor; you have suffered and lost, but in the end you prevailed. Now you dwell in peace, free of all worldly burdens._

'_But there is yet a task that remains unfinished._

'_Evil has arisen again. The time has come to return to Middle-earth and release the one you imprisoned so long ago. Only then can the darkness be truly defeated, once and for all.'_

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**Post-It Note**: Yay! After a hiatus of far too long a time, I have finally revised my beloved _LotR_ fanfic that I began writing in eighth grade, more than five years ago. Though things have changed—especially the first chapter—I plan on using most of the material that I had previously written. Well, hopefully. We'll see how that goes.

Well, I hope you all enjoyed the beginnings of my revised work. Please review; compliments and constructive criticisms are welcome, but flames will be laughed upon, followed by the summoning of my Ninja Squirrels of Doom to bombard flamers with rotten coconuts.

--Lady Galadriel


	3. A Secret Meeting

Though the morning dawned clear and bright in the Elven city of Tirion, Gandalf awoke with a troubled mind. His sleep the previous night had been disturbed with vivid memories of things long past and nearly forgotten, yet their message was clear. He planned to break his fast as usual, which would give him time to order his thoughts, and then immediately seek Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel.

He ventured from his small, comfortable dwelling to meet for breakfast with Frodo and Bilbo, who resided nearby along the shores of the Sea. Ever since they had arrived in the Blessed Realm, Gandalf had rarely seen a troubled look on Frodo's face, even on the anniversaries of his near-fatal wounds. It seemed that with the passing of the years, the magic of the Valar had worked upon the hobbit to finally soothe his mind and heal his body and soul.

Gandalf gave a knock on the door of the hobbits' cottage and was directly invited in. He entered, remembering to stoop to keep from knocking his head into the ceiling rafters, and proceeded into the dining room.

'Good morning, Frodo,' he greeted as he seated himself.

'Good morning to you, Gandalf,' Frodo returned cheerily. He set a basket of fresh-baked bread on the table, along with a dish of butter, a jar of honey, and a pitcher of cool water. 'Bilbo is hard at work again on a story in the library; I shall have to call him again for breakfast, it seems.' He looked upon the wizard's face and noticed his cloudy expression. 'Is something wrong, Gandalf?'

Gandalf gave Frodo a reassuring smile. ' 'Tis nothing to worry about, my friend. I had a troubling night's sleep, that's all.'

Nodding, Frodo excused himself to fetch his uncle. Meanwhile, Gandalf looked out to the Sea. A light breeze, pungent with the salty scent of the ocean water, drifted through the open window. The gulls cawed loudly as they soared in the morning sunlight, performing their aerial acrobatics for whoever would stop and watch. He gave a slight sigh, knowing that soon this sight would be only a memory once more. Soon, he would have to depart the Undying Lands for the East—a task he was loath to complete, though he knew he must.

When Frodo returned with his uncle, the aged Bilbo, the three friends broke their fast and Gandalf's spirit was soon lifted. Bilbo spoke of his new work—a complete and detailed history of the Three Ages of the Sun, along with a short passage regarding the more important events that occurred in the Fourth Age.

Gandalf chuckled. 'You have grown quite ambitious, my dear Bilbo. I hope you realize what you are getting into.'

'It is not such a burden as you might think,' Bilbo responded, puffing away on his pipe. Though he had left Middle-earth in a considerably aged state, the resilient hobbit had also been touched by the magic if the Valar. Now he was as active as he was so many years ago when Gandalf pushed him towards his first adventure out of the Shire. 'I have already penned a great deal of the last of the Third Age, as well as bits and pieces of what I read of the Second Age in Elrond's library in Rivendell.' He blew several smoke-rings into the air. 'The Elven Sea-lords tell me that the Straight Road can still be followed to Middle-earth, if one were to choose to do so. I hope to soon be able to send my new book back across the Sea.'

Gandalf raised his mug in a toast. 'May the Valar grant you their blessing to do so.'

- - -

Later that morning, Gandalf searched the city for Elrond and Galadriel. When the three met, they proceeded to a secluded part of one of the city gardens in order to speak privately.

Like everything else in Eldamar, the gardens were lush and beautiful, the flowers as bright as gems. The pathways were laid with a smooth, ivory-colored stone, chiseled perfectly with the most skilled Elven hands. The Sea was always visible; its clear, deep blue waters had an incredible calming effect on even the most troubled mind.

Yet it seemed that the peace of the Blessed Realm could not be restored for Elrond. Even Galadriel's golden brow was furrowed in unease.

'This cannot be,' Elrond said, his voice strained. He paced along the garden path, while Galadriel seated herself on a stone bench and Gandalf remained standing. 'I have long hoped and prayed this day would never come. I thought our task was complete.'

'We have all hoped this day would not come to pass,' Gandalf said quietly. 'But it has, and now we must face it.'

Elrond sat down besides the Lady, his head in his hands. She placed a hand on his shoulder, but he was not comforted.

'They do not know what it is they ask.'

'The Valar are not unaware, Elrond, of the burden they have set upon us,' Galadriel replied. 'I, too, am pained by these circumstances, but I have also felt the strife that has been reborn in Middle-earth. If it is indeed the Heir of Sauron, then we must act before all that we have worked for is destroyed.' She sighed. 'I only wish there was another way. I have no desire to see her face again while I live.'

Several moments passed in silence before Gandalf spoke. 'I do not doubt that it is the Heir of Sauron who has risen to power, thus emphasizing the need for our hasty return. But I fear that your hope is in vain, Lady. There is only one who can help us.' He suddenly looked very old and weary.

Elrond suddenly stood and continued his pacing, then finally shook his head. 'No,' he said firmly. 'I will not do it.'

'You are brave, young one, to refuse the bidding of the Valar,' a voice spoke. 'It must be the Noldorin blood running though your veins.' The three turned and immediately Gandalf and Galadriel bowed their heads in reverence. Elrond, however, bowed his head in complete awe of the figure that stood before them.

He was tall and lordly and carried an aura of great power and wisdom. His hair and beard were more golden than the light of the Sun, while his eyes were the piercing blue color of sapphires. His garments were simple but the purest white, decorated with gold leaf embroidery.

'Your presence honors us, Lord Ingwë,' Gandalf spoke courteously.

Elrond's eyes widened slightly as he raised his head, attempting to contain his astonishment. _Surely, it could not be--? _Here was a character of legend come to life, before Elrond's very eyes. He was Ingwë, High King of all the Elves, one of the First to awaken beneath the stars many ages ago and now forgotten. It was written that he led the Vanyar, the First Host of Elves, to the shores of the Undying Lands, and now dwelled upon the slopes of Taniquetil with the Valar.

Lord Ingwë's eyes glittered in amusement, but he held up his hand. 'Nay, do not seek to honor me as a king. It is I who have come to honor you for your victories over the Sea, for you have achieved great deeds and deserve the eternal peace of Eldamar.' His face, however, became quite grave. 'Yet I have also come to entreat you to fulfill what the Valar have asked.'

'And so we shall, Lord Ingwë,' Gandalf replied.

Galadriel, however, gazed boldly at the High King. 'I do not deny that I am hard-pressed to do so, but I shall obey.' Her voice carried an icy chill. 'But know that what we do, Lord Ingwë, is for the good of the people of Middle-earth. We do not do this under any obligation to you or your daughter. She lost our trust and friendship long ago.'

Surprise filled Elrond's mind. _The High King's daughter--?_

Lord Ingwë nodded, his face filled with sadness. 'I know you loved her dearly, and I know the crimes she committed against you are unforgivable. I cannot force you to do this, nor would I. I only ask that you consider and do what you feel is the best course of action.' With that, he turned and left the three in the garden with their heavy hearts.

After a moment, Gandalf broke the heavy stillness. 'It is settled. I shall speak to the Elven Sea-lords about out departure.'

- - -

Frodo had not meant to hear. He had not meant to quickly clear the breakfast dishes and then follow Gandalf through the city of Tirion. He had not meant to hide in the garden foliage, crouched low to the ground, while the three met. And he had certainly not meant to remain in his hiding spot, listening to the three speak, until Gandalf accosted him.

'Did the curiosity of your Took blood override your Baggins sense again, Frodo?'

Frodo started and immediately jumped from the bushes. Despite his surprise at being found out, his face was stricken with shock. 'Gandalf,' he began. 'What's going on?'

Gandalf's entertained look fell serious. 'Walk with me, Frodo. I shall explain.'

For the next hour, the two friends walked along the white shores of the Sea while Gandalf told Frodo what had taken place. As he listened, the hobbit felt an anvil drop into the pit of his stomach.

When the Wizard finished his tale, Frodo heavily asked, 'Does this mean that all I did was in vain?'

Gandalf took Frodo by the shoulders and gave him a reassuring smile. 'Nay, dear friend, it was not. The pain you endured on your quest was not in vain. You defeated a great evil that the world shall never have to face again.' A glimmer of regret crossed his face. 'This Heir of Sauron that has now come to power is a result of matters left unfinished. You have earned your peace and happiness here in the Blessed Realm.'

Frodo gave a small smile. 'I had hoped we could all live here together in the Blessed Realm, but I see that it was not meant to be. I wish you the best of luck, my friend, and I pray that the Valar will protect you and guide you.' The two embraced, and Frodo turned to leave.

Suddenly he turned back, a wistful expression on his face. 'By the way—say hello to Merry and Pippin for me.'

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**Post-It Note**: Another fresh, new chapter, but with a bit of old material thrown in. You know, it occurred to me as I began writing this chapter: "Do people _need_ to eat food in the Undying Lands—you know, it being a metaphor for Death and Heaven and all?" Oh well, I just kind of went with it. Artistic license kicked in.

Again, hope this chapter was enjoyable. Please review, and I have two words for flamers: Rotten Coconuts.

--Lady Galadriel


	4. News for the King

Legolas Greenleaf rode swiftly from his home in the forests of Ithilien to the city of Minas Tirith. He, too, had been awakened in the middle of the night by the fell screams that had erupted from the Black Lands. Several hours later, a messenger from King Elessar had arrived, bidding him to come to the city at once.

The night sky was clear and beautiful, glimmering with thousands of stars. But this offered no comfort to Legolas. Something dark stirred in the air—an evil presence, one that Legolas never before had felt in his years of life.

- - -

Elessar was unable to sleep for the rest of the night. His mind was too troubled and unnerved by what had occurred. What terrible force could have reawakened the evil of Mordor?

The Sun rose, but its light reached the city far after the hour of dawn. A heavy veil of sinister clouds had settled over the Black Lands, blocking the path of sunlight from the East. The city had fallen into a hushed stillness and remained so, even when several riders arrived.

Lord Faramir and Legolas rode into Minas Tirith within a short time of one another. Soon after, a fair-haired messenger passed through the gates, bearing the standard of King Éomer of Rohan. The council met in the King's hall: Elessar, Lord Faramir, Lord Imrahil, Legolas, Gimli, and the messenger of Rohan.

The messenger spoke first. 'King Éomer of Rohan sends his greetings, High King Elessar of Gondor and Arnor,' the rider spoke, bowing courteously. 'But with this greeting he sends a grave message. There are reports of Orc raids among the villages near the mountains, all within the past fortnight. They fight more fiercely than the goblins we are used to dealing with that are said to still dwell in the Misty Mountains. Moreover, they are said to bear the Eye of Sauron as their standard.'

Elessar paced a few feet around the room. 'King Éomer sends ominous news indeed.'

'My lord,' the messenger continued, 'King Éomer also requests the aid of the soldiers of Gondor. Our Riders have become too few and widespread to properly defend our people against these Orc attacks.'

Elessar nodded. 'And so you shall have it. But you have ridden a long journey—please, take food and rest for the night, and then at dawn you may leave with the men I shall send.'

The rider bowed. 'Thank you, my lord.' He then left, following a servant to the guesthouse.

'These are evil tidings,' Faramir uttered, his brow furrowed in anxious thought. 'It seems that last night's occurrence may not have been so singular. This new Evil has awoken under our very noses.'

'Aye, maybe so,' Gimli responded, 'but I say we meet them head on. Long has it been since my ax severed off the heads of those filthy bastards.'

'Yet you cannot say this peace has been unwelcome, Master Dwarf,' Faramir returned.

'Regardless, our scouts have reported nothing suspicious,' Imrahil spoke. 'They ventured as near as their courage allowed to the borders of the Black Lands and found no signs of Orcs or any other foul creatures.'

'For now, perhaps,' said Legolas. 'But there are many places to hide in the wastelands where the soldiers dare neither travel nor look. It cannot be denied: there is Evil stirring there, whether we can find it or no.'

'Legolas is right,' Elessar agreed. 'We must discover this new Evil and prepare to fight it, before we can be taken unawares. Imrahil, order a group of one hundred men to prepare to ride out at dawn. They will accompany our kinsman back to Rohan.' Imrahil nodded in assent and departed.

Elessar turned to Faramir. 'Are you well defended in Ithilien?'

Faramir nodded. 'Well enough, I believe, for the time being.'

'Legolas, ask your kinsmen in Ithilien if they would patrol the woodland borders for any signs at all of Orcs or other creatures.'

'And what would you have me do?' Gimli asked Elessar.

Elessar grinned. 'Sharpen your ax, Master Dwarf.'

- - -

Later, when the council had dispersed, Arwen came to Elessar while he sat in his library, deep in thought.

He sighed when she laid her hands upon his shoulders. 'I fear the peace has ended, Lady,' he said quietly. 'I cannot ignore the sense of foreboding that lingers in my heart.'

'Nor can I,' she replied. 'I received a Sending earlier this morning from my father. He, Lady Galadriel, and Mithrandir are returning to Middle-earth. Whatever this Evil may be, it is strong enough to have drawn them from the Blessed Realm.'

'I pray that they may be able to offer us guidance in this matter.' He drew Arwen into his arms and held her against him tightly. They stayed so for several minutes, wrapped in each other's arms, unable to let go.

- - -

Before he departed for Ithilien one more, Legolas walked along the shores of the Anduin, breathing in the salty Sea air in order to clear his thoughts. Above, gulls cried, a siren's music to his ears. Sweet it was, yet it lured him to a place he could not yet depart to. Since that fateful day when King Elessar drove the forces of Mordor from the fields of Lebennin to the Great River, Legolas had suffered a longing in his heart that would only abate if he departed for the Undying Lands. But love and loyalty for King Elessar stayed him and until his friend's passing, Legolas would remain in Middle-earth.

As he stood gazing across the sparkling water, the soft sounds of the current soothed his mind. Yet after a moment, he became aware of another sound unnatural to his surroundings. A soft voice spoke with the rhythm of the waves. Legolas strained his ears to listen more closely. The words were nearly inaudible and in a language he didn't recognize. Though he could not interpret their meaning, he distinguished several similarities to Sindarin, the Elven language he knew.

_Legolas_…

Suddenly, the voice stopped. All that remained was the sound of water. He stood there, wondering if it had just been a dream. But something told him it had not been.


	5. A Distant Light

A week passed without incident. King Elessar breathed a small sigh of relief, thankful that he was able to ready his forces to defend against attack. Ithilien and Minas Tirith were well secured; now all that was required was to wait to see what Time would bring.

The Black Land remained ominously quiet. Nothing stirred, not even about the borders. Yet the dark presence that had awoken grew stronger with each passing day.

When Lord Faramir and Legolas returned to the city, Elessar called his friends to him once again. Though an attack was imminent, Elessar felt confident the city would prevail without him present.

'Lady Arwen has told me of a ship sailing to the Grey Havens from the Blessed Realm,' he announced. 'Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and Lady Galadriel are returning to Middle-earth. Since for the time being we have received no threat from Mordor, I believe we should depart for Lindon and await the ship's arrival.'

'Is this a wise decision, my lord?' Imrahil questioned. 'The strength of our enemy is yet uncertain and we could face an attack at any moment. The journey to Lindon may take months. The city cannot afford to be without her King for that amount of time.'

'You speak truly, Imrahil,' Elessar replied, 'but I would not leave the city in the hands of lesser men than I. The city will survive attack as long as she is guided by one who is wise and instructed in the ways of war. There is no other I would trust more than you to lead the city in my stead.'

Imrahil bowed his head. 'I am honored, my lord, but my position on this matter stands firm.'

Elessar nodded. 'So noted, and I do not hold it against you.' He turned to Faramir, Legolas, and Gimli. 'What say you three?'

'Though I agree with Lord Imrahil,' Faramir began, 'I believe the city can hold fast in your absence.'

'I also agree,' said Legolas. 'If Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and Lady Galadriel are to return, they must surely know something of this Evil. We will need their counsel.'

'What of you, Gimli?' Elessar asked. 'What say you?'

Gimli shrugged. 'You know me, Elessar—I follow wherever the wind may blow.'

'Then the matter is settled,' said Elessar. 'We shall prepare to depart in the morning. Faramir, I would have you accompany me on this journey, unless you wish to remain in Ithilien.'

'No, I shall go.'

'Let us all prepare for the journey. We shall set forth at first light.'

- - -

_A voice called to him softly. He was dreaming._

Legolas_…_

_He opened his eyes and found himself deep within a forest. Sunlight streamed through the thick green foliage of the trees. The ground beneath him was blanketed with the fallen leaves of many past seasons. He stared in wonder, for this wood was far more beautiful than any he had ever seen in Middle-earth. Strange how he felt at such peace in this place, as if he were under some sort of spell._

Legolas_…_

_Just ahead, the leaves from the ground swirled into the air, though there was no wind, and formed a thick whirlwind. It stopped after a moment, and in its place stood a woman._

Legolas_…_

_He approached her slowly, mesmerized. She was incredibly beautiful; one of the Eldar, for she was surrounded by a pale golden light. Her rich, dark auburn hair flowed over her shoulders to her waist. Her skin was pale and smooth, her lips full and pink. He met her eyes and was startled. Her eyes gazed back at him as bright and intense as emeralds. He had never seen such eyes among the Eldar._

_She reached out her hand for his. Just as their fingertips nearly touched, however, flames erupted all around. He could only feel the burning heat of the flames—and he all he could hear was a woman screaming in pain…  
_  
Legolas sat upright in his bed, the flames of his dream still burning in his mind. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face and his naked chest.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Never before had he experienced such a vivid dream, as if he had been awake and actually there. He rose from his bed and stepped to the open window, allowing the gentle night breeze to cool his body. The scent of the Sea was not as strong in Minas Tirith as it was in Ithilien, but Legolas could still detect the faint saltiness of the Anduin River that lingered in the air.

He remembered the beautiful woman of his dream—most of all her deep, intense eyes that seemed to stare right through him. Yet he perceived that she bore a great sadness; it hung over her like great storm clouds ready to burst with a torrent of rain. He had longed to touch her, if only for a moment, to perhaps try and comfort her.

All dreams had meaning, but this one was obscure to Legolas. Only with Time would it be revealed.

- - -

'I have prepared horses for us to ride north,' Elessar told Arwen as he packed a bag for himself. It was quite late—past midnight—but he and Arwen remained awake. 'I chose a fine mare for you to ride; she is gentle and swift and will not tire easily.'

'I am not going, my love.'

Elessar turned to Arwen, surprised. She smiled at him, then stood from her chair and took his hands. 'I wish that I might, but I cannot.' Her eyes glimmered with affection and Elessar immediately took her meaning.

'How long have you known?' he whispered, joy spreading throughout his entire being.

'Since yesterday,' she replied, 'but I wanted to wait until we were alone to tell you. I had not hoped it would be the night before you left.'

He drew Arwen into his arms and kissed her gently but with great passion. He then hoisted her up and spun her around the room. The two fell onto the bed, laughing blissfully in celebration of the distant light in the growing darkness.

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**Post-It Note**: GAH! This site's formatting bites. I just realized that the previous chapters I had posted did _not_ have the separations between the plotline, but I went back and fixed that, so if you look back and read it now it should make more sense. --grumbles--

On to the chapter: I had a bit of trouble naming this chapter, but finally settled for 'A Distant Light'. To me, it represents not only the hope of Arwen's pregnancy, but also the light of the Elven ship that approaches from the Blessed Realm.

Damn, AP English really _did_ teach me something this past year.

Anyway, I'm glad people are enjoying my fanfic so far. I'm trying make the chapters a bit more lengthy and add a good deal of substance, so I hope I'm not disappointing anyone. Though the chapters are a little short (in my opinion, anyway, but I don't want to make them super long because I know that becomes a real pain to read), I have a feeling they'll lengthen as I really get into the story.

Actually, all this involvement in _LotR_ has gotten me working on a short story I started a while ago about Faramir. Be sure to keep an eye out for that; I plan on having it done and releasing it soon, hopefully within the next few weeks.

Please be sure to review, I like receiving comments and/or constructive criticism. Enjoy everyone!

--Lady Galadriel


	6. A Familiar Presence

The company—Elessar, Legolas, Faramir, and Gimli—departed on horseback when the morning air was still chill from the night. Elessar, elated from the recent news, gave orders to all the servants that they were to tend to Lady Arwen in every way possible. At this, Arwen laughed in amusement and kissed her husband goodbye.

'I will return as soon as Fate allows,' Elessar told her, then kissed her once more and left.

They rode as far as the horses were able then stopped to rest for a short while. It was nearly noon; since they had not eaten beforehand, they made camp and broke their fast.

'I wager that we shall be clear of the Druadan Forest by nightfall,' Faramir said. 'If we push the horses, we might enter Rohan in two days. Yet I do not recommend it; though the horses are strong and hardy, we must pace them as best we can for the long journey.'

'It matters not to me; the sooner I get off a horse the better,' Gimli grumbled, tearing into a chunk of bread. 'I don't think I'll ever get used to the damn beasts.'

'Would you rather we run across the land of Rohan, Gimli?' Elessar questioned, his eyebrow raised as he tried to hide a grin. 'I would be glad to accommodate you, for old times' sake.'

Gimli did not reply, but his eyes flashed with laughter over his mug of ale.

---

The company continued along the Great West Road until the Sun set below the western horizon. Legolas spent the entire day attempting to keep his mind from wandering into the land of Elven dreams. After waking from his dream the previous night, his sleep was fitful, filled with images of fire and a woman in torment—without a doubt, the Elf-woman of his dream. Though he had certainly functioned perfectly with no sleep at all on previous occasions, his mind and body suffered an exhaustion he was unable to ignore.

However, that night, sleep did not come to him. He lied beneath the evening sky, gazing up at the stars, while his companions drifted into slumber. An hour passed before Legolas finally rose soundlessly to walk.

'What troubles you, Legolas?' Elessar's voice spoke in the Elvish tongue. He sat near the dying embers of the fire, smoking his pipe. Legolas seated himself beside Elessar and said nothing for a moment.

'I cannot sleep,' Legolas responded in Elvish. 'My dreams are haunted by images I fail to understand.' He recounted his dream to Elessar, who listened intently.

'What do you think?' Legolas asked.

Elessar did not speak at first, but Legolas perceived that he was deliberating the matter. He finished smoking his pipe then emptied the ashes onto the ground.

'I do not claim to understand fully the ways of dreams,' he said quietly, 'but I know as well as you that they are not sent without reason. You say you do not know this woman?'

Legolas shook his head. 'I have never seen her before. It is strange, though—the more I think about her, the more I feel this sense of familiarity, as if I have indeed met her but I cannot recall the memory.'

'The gods can work very strangely with our minds,' Elessar mused. 'Given that this was your first encounter with this strange dream-woman, I do not think you are meant to discover its meaning for yourself. It will be given to you in time.

'In the meantime, you must get some sleep. Someone needs to make sure Gimli doesn't fall off his horse.'

---

_Elrond_…

Elrond started when he heard the soft voice whispering in the cabin room. He knew that voice too well.

'How dare you speak to me,' he hissed in reply.

_I must. He knows, Elrond. _

'Thank you so kindly, but I'm afraid your information is useless. We already know the Heir has awakened in Middle-earth. But of course, I'm sure you arranged all of this quite well many centuries ago.'

_He is destined to follow Sauron. It's in his blood to know. Did you expect that even if I possessed the power, I would be able to prevent this?_

'Of course not, but it is because of you that this Evil has fallen upon Middle-earth,' Elrond remarked, his voice filled with scorn. 'But who would know better about fate and destiny than the Lady herself?'

_We all must follow our destinies. We all become pawns of Fate at one point or another. Say whatever you want, Elrond of Rivendell, but I know of what I speak, whether you believe me or not. You will need me_.

'I no longer believe your words—I have not had a reason to for many ages. I certainly do not believe that we can only succeed with you released from your prison to "help" us, as you say.'

_Then if you are not even remotely convinced, what shall you do, Elrond? Will you condemn thousands to death through your own ignorance and pride?_

'I will do what I must,' Elrond replied. 'I will not risk releasing you if I only bring more evil into the world.'

_I see no reason why I should try and convince you. It would be vain to try and go up against your stubbornness. It always was. Fate will follow through._

'Yes, Fate will follow through for you—and then you will take your vengeance upon us out of resentment, as you did before.'

_Is it not also resentment that you deny the truth? Resentment for my betrayal and my crimes? For her death?_

Elrond felt his blood boil within his veins as she spoke. 'Do not dare speak of her with your foul tongue again.'

The voice was silent. Elrond made no movement, but spoke quietly with menace in his voice.

'Hear my words, for they are your last warning. For centuries I have remembered you, like a horrible nightmare. You betrayed everyone and everything to Sauron, and because of you, his Heir has risen to take back the lost dark throne. But I will not allow this. I will stop him, with every ounce of strength that I possess. And I will achieve without you!'

_Are you ready to dare take such oath, Elrond?_

'Yes, I will. By the elements, I will swear that I will never release you; I will do everything in my power to make sure that your cursed realm becomes your grave! I will defeat the Heir of Sauron without you.'

_You will fail_…

A sudden gust of Sea wind blew through the open window, scattering bits of parchment around the small cabin. The voice spoke no more, and Elrond dreaded the coming days, for deep in his heart, he knew his oath would not stand.

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**Post-It Note**: Wow, I had trouble completing this chapter. I kind of sat staring at the screen for a while, thinking to myself, 'Okay, now what happens next?' I finally settled for fixing up a passage from the "Old Version" of the fanfic. Hey, whatever works, right? 

I'm also taking a bit of artistic liberty in terms of the travel time for Elessar, Legolas, Faramir and Gimli. I looked up the farthest distance a horse can travel in a day, and apparently, wild horses have been known to travel 40-50 miles in a day for water. So, seeing that this is Middle-earth time and we have horses that are hardier than at present, we'll just say that they can average 60 miles a day.

Again, I hope everyone is enjoying this so far; from the reviews I've received it seems like it, but I love to read people's opinions—even if it's criticism. So don't be afraid of the Rotten Coconuts—those are only for obnoxious flamers. I have no problems if anyone would like to offer suggestions.

This will be the only chapter I'll be able to post for about a week to a week and a half. I'm leaving for college tomorrow morning, so I have to get settled in.

Happy reading, and be sure to review!

-Lady Galadriel


	7. An Awaited Arrival

Six days passed after departing Minas Tirith when the company arrived in Edoras, home to King Éomer of the Mark. He welcomed his friends graciously and invited them to stay for as long as they required.

They shared the evening meal then went outside to sit in the courtyard. Éomer, Elessar, and Gimli smoked the pipe, while Legolas and Faramir remained upwind of the smoke. The Sun set in the West and in the darkening sky above, the stars began to reveal their brilliant selves. Brightest of all was the Evenstar, shining in the midst of the fading sunlight.

'My thanks to you, friend, for lending your horsemen to our defense,' Éomer said to Elessar. 'Many of our Rohirrim have been lost to the foul blades of the Orcs—many good men whom I have known throughout my lifetime.' He shook his head. 'I have seen and fought them, Elessar. They are more deadly than Uruk-Hai. They do not stop until their enemy is dead—they do not flee or surrender even when they are outnumbered or wounded, as if their very veins are filled with a fire that never ceases to burn.'

'I fear these Orcs are the creation of the new Evil that has awoken in Mordor,' Elessar replied. 'A fortnight ago the city was awakened by a great rumbling and the terrible screams of something not of this earth. Since then the Land of Mordor has been shrouded by a great darkness, and I can sense a malevolent being there in the shadows.'

Éomer's face paled. 'Alas, Elessar, you should not have left Minas Tirith. Your people will need their King when the Enemy strikes.'

'Do not fear for my people, Éomer,' said Elessar, 'for I have not left them unguarded. Even the shepherd must sometimes leave his flock in the hands of another to arm himself against the threat. We ride for the Grey Havens to meet with Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and Lady Galadriel. They are returning from the Undying Lands to give us guidance, if they are able, concerning this new Evil.'

'Your journey will be long indeed,' said Éomer. 'The Old South Road has become more perilous since you last traveled. I have sent men along the road to guard the villages; if you wish I will send a dozen with you as well.'

Elessar held up his hand. 'Nay, Éomer, your men will be needed to protect their own. I do not believe we will face any great danger along the way that we cannot handle ourselves. I only pray that together our people will outlast and overcome Evil once more.'

---

Since the night he had told Elessar of his dreams, Legolas had been able to sleep peacefully. Yet he still thought of the Elf-woman, her voice a constant echo in his mind.

The company stayed in Edoras for that night then departed at Dawn. The journey through Rohan was easy and the weather mild; the horses were able to keep a steady pace that allowed a good distance to be traveled within a reasonable time.

A week had passed since leaving Edoras when they came upon the remnants of a deserted village. Nearly all of the dozen houses were burned to the ground. A few rotting animal corpses remained; whatever other animals there were had been taken. No human bodies were to be seen, but as they traveled further up the road, they observed a large burial ground with numerous marked graves.

Elessar halted his horse and dismounted, silently gazing at the graveyard. Faramir, Legolas, and Gimli joined his side. Legolas bowed his head and began to recite an Elvish prayer for the dead.

'So many innocent lives,' Faramir murmured. 'Men, women, children—the Orcs destroyed the entire village.'

'They must have attacked during the night,' noted Gimli. 'The mountains are within a few hours' marching distance of the town. They had no chance to defend themselves or call for aid.'

Elessar did not speak, but merely stared at the graves. He stood so for several moments before Legolas lightly touched his arm. He then turned to his friends, and although his face was expressionless, they could feel the rage radiating from his entire being.

'We must continue,' he spoke quietly, the dangerous anger lurking in his voice. Without another word, he mounted his horse and led them on.

---

It had been almost two months before the Grey Ship of the Elves landed in Mithlond. With a heavy heart, Elrond stepped from the ship onto the solid ground of Middle-earth. The Light of the Valar had faded from his mind the farther they had traveled away from the Undying Lands, and now it was but a flicker of candlelight in the darkness of his troubles.

Even Gandalf seemed to age as he also stepped onto the land. His expression was dark and silent; he had spoken barely a word but had remained in a state of deep contemplation. Galadriel, too, had been as equally somber.

'It is him,' Galadriel whispered. 'The Heir has returned to claim his throne.'

The three could feel the Evil pulsing throughout the land, like a festering wound on the body. It made the earth ominously silent, as if it was unable to celebrate its life through birds and all matter of life that thrived. Even the brightness of the Sun's light was dimmed, as if shining through a dense fog.

Her voice echoed in Elrond's mind: _You will need me_. As he perceived the strength of the Evil now dwelling in Middle-earth, he knew she was right. This was beyond their power to fight. They needed _her_.

Elrond sighed quietly as he looked back across the Sea, then to the land before them.

'It has begun.'

---

_He was in the wood again. Just as before, a deep, comforting sensation resounded in his soul, a perfect sense of peace._

_She stood facing him. Her emerald eyes shone into his as intense as fire. He saw reflected in those eyes the images of memories from ages past: faces, voices, battles—all distant echoes of things long forgotten._

_Though she stood close to him, she could not touch him. He tried to reach for her when he noticed the desperation in her expression, but found he could not. Some unseen force kept them apart; he struggled against it but to no avail…_

Rivendell, _she told him. _You must go to Rivendell.

_He became consumed by the flames and knew no more._

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**Post-It Note**: Wow, I had trouble completing this chapter. I kind of sat staring at the screen for a while, thinking to myself, 'Okay, now what happens next?' I finally settled for fixing up a passage from the "Old Version" of the fanfic. Hey, whatever works, right?

I'm also taking a bit of artistic liberty in terms of the travel time for Elessar, Legolas, Faramir and Gimli. I looked up the farthest distance a horse can travel in a day, and apparently, wild horses have been known to travel 40-50 miles in a day for water. So, seeing that this is Middle-earth time and we have horses that are hardier than at present, we'll just say that they can average 60 miles a day.

Again, I hope everyone is enjoying this so far; from the reviews I've received it seems like it, but I love to read people's opinions—even if it's criticism. So don't be afraid of the Rotten Coconuts—those are only for obnoxious flamers. I have no problems if anyone would like to offer suggestions.

This will be the only chapter I'll be able to post for about a week to a week and a half. I'm leaving for college tomorrow morning, so I have to get settled in.

Happy reading, and be sure to review!

-Lady Galadriel


	8. To Speak of Dreams

**Post-It Note:** I fixed a little "goof" I made in the last chapter, when Éomer tells Elessar about the Road. It's actually the Old South Road, not the North Road. Just a minor error, but I wanted to go back and fix it anyway.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following day, Elessar and his company crossed the Fords of the Isen and continued along the Old South Road toward the lands of Eriador. The land was desolate—many of the villages had been abandoned for safer lands, where the people could be protected by the Rohirrim. Soon, however, they entered untamed land, wild with Nature's growth and untouched by civilization.

Five days passed in a blur of countryside and sky. Elessar drove the horses as far as their strength could muster each day. Though outwardly he maintained his usual demeanor, one could see the anger that burned in his eyes since they had come across that destroyed village—the anger of a King who would risk his life to protect his people from Evil. Thus, he was not chided for his treatment of the horses, for each knew the great importance of the journey, now more than ever.

Finally, after traveling most of the night, Elessar stopped the company at Dawn to rest under the shade of a great tree, one of the few that grew in West Rohan. The night had been surprisingly cool; a slight wind from the West had brought clouds forth to prevent any starlight or moonlight from lighting their path. No rain threatened, though, and now the clouds began to dissipate with the rising warmth of the Sun.

'We shall rest here for the day,' Elessar said, leading his horse to graze. A stream ran nearby and formed a small pool of water, giving the nearby grass a particularly lush, green look. His horse quickly began to munch happily.

Gimli scrambled off his horse, nearly falling to the ground. He winced in pain as he straightened and rubbed his backside. The small, grey horse that carried him whinnied, as if to state his relief.

Legolas dismounted nimbly, his thoughts elsewhere. With his latest dream had come another bout of sleeplessness, coupled with even more pondering as to its meaning. The Elf-woman had told him to go to Rivendell, but he questioned to what avail.

Faramir stared off into the distance, as if studying something. 'Unless my eyes deceive me,' he said after a moment, 'that glitter I see in the distance is the Greyflood.'

Legolas followed Faramir's gaze. 'You eyes are keen,' he confirmed. 'That is indeed the Greyflood River.'

'Great gods, we have journeyed far in so little time,' Faramir said in amazement. 'I had not expected to reach the borders for another fortnight.'

'I do not plan on continuing at this pace,' Elessar stated. 'No matter how urgent our cause, I cannot force the horses to endure such strain. It would be the death of them before the week's end.' He began to clear away some wild grasses in a circular shape in order to build a fire. 'We will only resume at an easy speed. Hopefully, if the Valar are kind, we will still make it to the Havens by the next moon.'

Gimli began to mutter a sarcastic protest, which provoked laughter from Elessar and Faramir. Yet Legolas paid no heed; his attention was drawn to the strange images that formed in his mind's eye—

_In the night sky above, the figure of Menelmacar shines brightly, his sword raised for battle—_

_The Elf-woman, bound by chains, calls desperately for help—_

_A phantom face appears before him, glaring with wicked, violet eyes. He feels his breath catch in his throat; he can't breathe, he's being suffocated…_

'Legolas!'

Elessar had him gripped by the shoulders and was shaking him. Broken from his visions, Legolas returned to reality and gasped as he inhaled, trying to regain his breath. He collapsed to the ground, sweaty and shaken with fear.

'You weren't breathing,' Elessar told him. His face was filled with concern; Faramir and Gimli stood behind him, staring in shock. 'What happened, Legolas?'

It took Legolas a moment before he could reply. 'A vision,' he whispered hoarsely. 'A vision of _her_.'

_Go to Rivendell_.

Elessar knew of whom Legolas spoke. He also knew that visions which were able to have such an effect were very powerful—perhaps even deadly.

'You need to rest, my friend,' said Elessar calmly. 'You've hardly slept the past few days.'

Legolas stood, with Elessar's help, and seated himself at the base of the tree. He turned himself so that he gazed West, towards the Sea. Not even the rising Sun could provide comfort for what he knew dwelled in the East.

---

The day passed without incident. While Legolas drifted in and out of a restless sleep, Elessar, Faramir, and Gimli spoke quietly amongst themselves.

'What are these "visions" he speaks of?' Gimli asked.

Elessar shook his head. 'I cannot speak of what they entail, but I know to cause such an effect they must be powerful and disturbing indeed. Elves are schooled in the ways of dreams and prove to be more capable of handling them in comparison to Men.'

'I have heard of the Elven art of dreams,' Faramir responded. 'Mithrandir told me of them when I was just a lad.'

'Then you know that it is a dangerous business to meddle with dreams,' said Elessar. 'Yet I do not believe these are mere fancies created by the mind. These are true visions, sent either by a powerful being or perhaps even the Valar themselves.'

Gimli made a dismissive gesture. 'We Dwarves don't believe in such fanciful stuff. What's more likely is that Legolas is imagining things and just needs a decent night's sleep.'

'Have you never dreamed before, Master Dwarf?' Faramir queried. 'What makes you say such things do not exist?'

'The only things Dwarves need dream about are the jewels of the earth,' Gimli replied with a decisive nod.

---

Legolas hardly felt any better the next morning than he had previously. On the contrary, his condition seemed to have worsened. His head ached terribly; his mind was dimmed and clouded. Moreover, he was as exhausted as before. Not even the limited amount of sleep he'd managed made any difference.

The Sun's rays were strong that day, the air still and hot, almost to the point of causing suffocation. The company was forced to ride slowly through the rocky terrain and stop to water the horses often—usually from their own supply of water, since natural sources were quite scarce. The heat only began to alleviate when the Sun set.

They stopped for the night in the shelter of a small cavern that had formed in the side of a stony hilltop. By that point, each of them suffered from heat exhaustion and fell into an immediate sleep after breaking their fast for the evening.

Surprisingly enough, Legolas also managed to fall asleep, sinking into the deep, dark depths of slumber and oblivious to what occurred around him. He wished his dreams would end; that his mind would cease to be haunted by the ghostly visions that had come to him of late.

_Legolas…_

Her face formed from nothing in the darkness, full of anger and desperation.

_Do not shut yourself from me. There is much you need to know and learn. But now, wake up. Wake up!_

He woke with a start, at once alert and aware. The sky was a deep blue-black; just over the eastern horizon rose the crescent form of the waning Moon. He judged that he had been asleep for at least five hours.

Just above him, about a mile over the edge of the rocky slope, he heard the scuffling and tramping of armored feet. A horrid, familiar stench reached his nostrils. He recalled what Éomer had warned them of before they departed Edoras; a mixture of both excitement and dread filled him.

_Orcs_.

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**Post-It Note:** Gasp! Shock! Alarm! Yes, I just _had _to leave this chapter at a bit of a cliffhanger, just to mess with you. But no worries--Chapter 8 is on its way.

Also, I thank everyone for their reviews and comments about my fanfic. It's good to know that my writing is appreciated--hinthint--so feel free to leave as many reviews as you wish! The more the merrier!

-Lady Galadriel


	9. Skirmish in the Night

Quickly and silently, Legolas stepped over to Elessar and shook him awake. In the darkness Elessar opened his eyes and looked to Legolas, recognizing his urgency. He did not speak.

'Orcs. Just over the hilltop, less than a mile away.'

'How many?'

'A score, I deem. Maybe a few more.'

Within seconds, Faramir and Gimli were woken and each of the company had armed himself to fight. The Orcs continued that approach; Legolas heard mention of 'Elf,' 'Men,' and 'Dwarf' as they spoke to one another in their foul tongue.

'They're after us,' Legolas whispered to Elessar.

'How could they possibly have known of our journey?' Faramir asked, his tone incredulous.

'They may have been tracking us through the mountains,' Elessar responded. He laid down upon the ground and placed his ear to the earth. He closed his eyes and listened intently for a moment.

'The earth cries of Evil,' he told them as he stood. 'This new Enemy has indeed been following us, and we have been none the wiser.'

'Then what's our plan?' Gimli asked, gripping the handle of his ax tightly.

Elessar grasped a hold of the rocks above him that jutted from the hillside and lifted himself just enough so that he could see over the top. The Orcs had nearly reached them; they were about fifty yards away and twenty-five in number. In the faint light of the Moon, he could see that these Orcs were slightly larger than their predecessors of Mordor, but armed with similar jagged weapons. What caught his attention most, however, was their standard. It was indeed the same Eye the Dark Lord had used years ago, but instead of crimson, this one was pained with a dark violet pigment.

'Find them out!' the leader commanded sharply to his troops. 'Remember what the Master said—bring back the Elf!'

Elessar lowered himself back to the ground, his face drawn and grim. By the expression on his face, Elessar determined that Legolas had heard the order as well.

'We need to divert their attention—scatter their numbers,' he said. 'They have no archers among them; that shall be an advantage on our part. This is our plan, so quickly take note…'

---

The Orc leader silently directed his troops to split into two groups and circle around the company's encampment below the ridge. He knew they'd probably been heard, but that made no difference. They would be successful in their mission.

They had nearly reached their target when a thunderous galloping broke out along the plains to their right. The leader's poor eyesight made out the bodies of four horses escaping.

'After them!' he roared. 'Let them escape and I'll have your heads!'

A dozen or so Orcs swiftly ran to catch up with the horses. The rest stood about, waiting for orders.

The leader grinned, his foul teeth clenched together in glee. He still smelled Men. He took a leap off the knoll to land ten feet below and surprised his enemies with wild swings of his scimitar—

—but instead lost his own head with a swift blow from Elessar's sword.

Hearing the fall of their leader, the other Orcs bellowed loudly with rage and rushed down to meet Elessar, Faramir, and Gimli.

---

_Great Elbereth, these Orcs are swift!_ Legolas thought. As Elessar had hoped, the Orcs broke rank to follow the fleeing horses. Unfortunately, they easily matched the speed of the horses and were closing in.

Legolas drove the horses faster, took the bow from his back and began shooting arrows at the Orcs, one after the other. Each arrow sung as it hit its mark, but only felled a few. After a dozen shots, eight Orcs still followed; they'd merely broken off the arrows and continued their pursuit. With only a few yards between them, one of the Orcs heaved his sword sideways at Legolas's head. The Elf quickly ducked, narrowly saving himself.

Legolas shot several more arrows, this time aiming directly between the eyes. Each Orc fell. He aimed there each time and finished off the rest of them, then turned the horses back to his companions. Judging by the battle cries of the Orcs, his friends were having less success than he.

---

Elessar, Faramir, and Gimli stood back-to-back, defending each other against the remaining five Orcs.

'Why won't these bastards just die already?' Gimli yelled in the midst of the fray. He made a fearsome swipe with his ax and managed to dismember an Orc; it howled wildly in rage. Before it could renew its attack, however, an arrow whizzed by Gimli's head and struck the Orc through its open mouth. It fell dead to the ground.

Legolas drew his blade and rode past the remaining Orcs, slaying two more while his companions finished off the rest. Concern immediately followed their exhaustion, for Faramir had been wounded in the fight.

'Nay, 'tis hardly more than a scratch,' he reassured. Elessar examined the gash on Faramir's abdomen while Legolas gathered what useable arrows he could find. Gimli kicked away at an Orc's body and retrieved a standard.

'The Orc's aim was poor, lucky for you,' Elessar said to Faramir. 'The cut is a little deep, but it did not cause any further damage. I will bandage it as best I can for now.'

Gimli stood squinting at the standard in the darkness. 'The coloring of this pigment is strange,' said he. 'I have never seen such a color dye before.'

'Nor have I,' Legolas agreed.

'Be sure to save it, so that we might study it in better light,' Elessar told them. He finished placing the dressing on Faramir's wound, then sighed heavily. 'I realize now the truth of Éomer's words. I fear to imagine battling an army of such creatures as these.'

'What could they have been after Legolas for?' Faramir queried. No one could answer.

'That will not be the last of them,' Elessar stated. 'Nonetheless, I do believe we are safe for tonight. We will rest and regain our strength, then continue our journey at first light.'

Yet sleep did not come easily for any of the companions, least of all Legolas. His mind was greatly troubled by the Orcs' orders to capture him. What could they have possibly wanted of him?

One thing was for certain: his presence put his friends into great danger. He would not allow them to risk their lives for his own. The stakes had grown too high too quickly, and much still remained unknown to the players.

The Elf-woman's face appeared in his mind's eye. Yes, he would go to Rivendell, he answered the image. He would follow his visions, wherever they might lead him, even into the very pits of Mordor.

He just prayed they would not lead him there.

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**Post-It Note**: kfhdvdfovheovhlfvhfonvdlvndolvhfgoivfgWTF

Yeah...so much for regularly updating. I apologize profusely, especially since keeping people on hold for storyline updates can cause a loss on interest. --coughGeorgeLucascough--

But I blame college. Bleh.

In any case, along with my profuse apologies, I _will _be working on updating this fanfic more often. After all, it's my baby, my _magnum opus_ in the world of fanfiction. Of course, I hope one day in the near future to actually complete it, but we'll see about that. XD It's not such a vain hope, though--the semester is almost over, and this summer is full of potential opportunities.

--Lady Galadriel


	10. Old Friends

The company departed swiftly at first light. This time, they were especially cautious in heeding their movements along the Road. Though it was not apparent that they were being followed again, their minds were still ill at ease.

Several hours later, they reached the Old Bridge and crossed the Greyflood easily into Arnor. As they watered the horses, Legolas' eyes gazed northeastward along the Greyflood: the direction to Rivendell.

From a short distance away, Elessar observed his friend carefully. He noted the Elf seemed to possess a clearer mind—_thank the Valar, otherwise who knows what might have happened during the fight last night_? he thought. Yet he knew Legolas was still preoccupied, even obsessed, with his visions. Elessar only wondered what they might bring about next.

---

The next few days passed without incident. The company rode mostly in silence, yet gratefully noticed that the barren landscape was turning a more lovely shade of green as they journeyed further towards Eriador. But even in this peaceful land the growing darkness could still be felt.

When they reached the division in the Road—to the left, the Shire; to the right, Bree—Legolas hesitated to follow his friends across the Brandywine. In his mind resounded the Elf-woman's words: _To Rivendell_…

'Wait, I see a rider further up the road,' Faramir announced. Legolas turned to the direction Faramir pointed to.

'Nay, there are two,' he corrected. His Elf eyes discerned two very familiar faces, albeit fourteen years older, and he grinned. 'It is indeed Merry and Pippin!'

Elessar laughed, delighted and relieved to soon be united with old friends. 'Come, let us ride to meet them.'

When they drew nearer, the two Hobbits hailed them with great enthusiasm.

'This is a welcome sight, indeed!' Elessar declared happily. Merry and Pippin had indeed matured since they last met, but their eyes still gleamed mischievously. They rode a matching pair of brown dappled ponies; each were dressed in simple traveling clothes and the Elven cloaks Lady Galadriel had given them in Lothlórien so many years ago.

'It appears that we've been left out of the loop again, Pip,' Merry said, his tone clearly teasing. 'First, we are greeted suddenly—and quite secretly, I should add—by the Elven lords who have returned from over the Sea—'

'—And then we are sent to meet our old friends, quite coincidentally traveling to meet said Elven lords, and direct them to Bree, without a word of explanation,' Pippin finished. The two Hobbits looked to their friends expectantly.

'Nothing ever changes, does it?' said Gimli.

---

Under Elrond's instruction, given to the company through Merry and Pippin, they turned back and took the Andrath towards Bree. As they traveled, Merry and Pippin related their encounter with Elrond, Galadriel, and Gandalf.

'It was just over a week ago, now,' said Merry, 'so we should almost meet exactly with them in Bree. Barring any hindering circumstances, of course. They were quite secretive about why they had returned. Gandalf warned us—'

'—Actually, he threatened us,' Pippin interjected. 'But that's nothing new.'

'We were _warned_,' Merry continued, shooting a glare at Pippin, 'to neither speak of their arrival in Middle-earth, nor to tell anyone where we were going and who we were meeting with. Elessar, what's going on?'

No one responded for a few moments. Finally, Elessar spoke, his voice low. He told the Hobbits what had happened in Mordor, the attacks in Rohan, and the new, powerful breed of Orcs that they had fought. 'I cannot say for certain what has brought Gandalf and the Elven lords from over the Sea,' he said, 'but I pray it is to bring us aid once more. Some Evil is clearly rising in the East, but we are blind to its origin.'

They stopped to camp at nightfall. Merry and Pippin built a substantial fire and shared the food and pipe-weed they'd brought along with them. Legolas, of course, refused to smoke, but Gimli was much obliged to have the Elf's portion of the weed. The group spent much of the night conversing and recounting their old adventures with one another. It was a merry night, one of the last they would have in quite some time.

As the night wore on, one by one they drifted off to sleep. Despite his exhaustion, however, Legolas remained awake. He sat by the dying fire, staring into the golden-red embers as they flickered with their last pulse of life. He listened intently to the land around them, ignoring the soft breathing of his companions and Gimli's loud snoring. Nothing stirred, save for the sounds of the night. His mind began to wander, and before he knew it, he fell into a deep slumber.

The next morning, the company awoke feeling well-rested and refreshed, even Legolas. They set out at a steady pace and managed to make it through most of the Downs by nightfall. The next afternoon, as the Sun was beginning to set, they finally arrived in Bree.

'We're to meet them at the Prancing Pony,' said Merry.

Barliman Butterbur was still the owner of the Inn. He welcomed them cheerfully but made no fuss to their presence. In fact, he seemed not to recognize them at all, but merely gave them rooms to stay and went about his business once more.

'That is most strange, I must say,' Elessar murmured as they entered their suite of rooms. 'I expected to have to tell the old man to hush and not draw any eyes to us.'

'That is because the matter was already taken care of,' a deep, familiar voice spoke. Out of the shadows of the room rose a tall figure from his seat, dressed in white robes and a cloak of grey. The figure removed his hood to reveal the face of Gandalf. 'Apparently my presence can provide a vast improvement for Butterbur's memory—no doubt it may have something to do with a threat I made long ago of melting all the butter out of him.' The Wizard's eyes twinkled humorously.

'It is good to see you all, my friends,' he continued, 'but we have no time for happy reunions. There are pressing matters to be spoken of.'

'Such as the stirring of Evil in Mordor?' Pippin suggested.

'And the attacks on the villages of Rohan?' Merry added.

'Which will all somehow be tied into the reason why you've returned to Middle-earth?'

'You outrageously impatient and inquisitive Hobbits!' Gandalf exclaimed, unable to contain his laughter.

---

Everyone congregated into one room: Gandalf, Elrond, Galadriel, Elessar, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli, and the Hobbits Merry and Pippin. At Gandalf's request, Elessar immediately spoke of all that had occurred. He also showed the standard they had taken from the group of Orcs they had fought.

'The situation is more grave than you realize,' Gandalf spoke. 'This new foe stems from the very Evil we all defeated fourteen years ago. It is the Heir of Sauron, a son born of his flesh and blood.'

Shock emanated throughout the room, followed by a heavy silence. Yet for Legolas, Gandalf's words only seemed to confirm some dim supposition deep within his mind. It was as if he had already _known_…

_The phantom face appeared, with its wicked, violet eyes, as violet as the dye on the black standard. It rose from the Land of Mordor, the land of his father, and covered Middle-earth in Darkness—_

_The Elf-woman stood once more before him, beautiful and powerful. Her emerald eyes stared into his, enigmatic and captivating, as if she could see into his very soul. She reached out to him, and unlike before, she was able to touch him, grabbing hold of his forearm. His arm burned; her touch was like fire, yet he could not break away, she held him captive in her eyes, she spoke to him in a language he could not understand but still he knew her words…_

'_You are Blessed by the Valar,' she whispered. 'You are the one I foresaw so long ago.' She lifted the sleeve of his tunic and revealed the mark of an ancient rune on his skin. 'You are destined for great things, Legolas Greenleaf…'_

The darkness consumed him and he knew no more.

---

Legolas was placed into a bed, still unconscious. During the course of his vision he had spoken aloud in a language only understood by Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel. Their faces had paled with considerable shock.

'Master Elrond,' Elessar addressed him quietly in Elvish. 'There is something I have not spoken of that I think you must know.'

'What is it, Elessar?'

'Legolas has confided to me of these dreams and visions he's been having. Some have been so powerful that he stopped breathing in the midst of them. He speaks of an Elf-woman—he knows not who she is, but senses a familiarity about her. Also, the Orcs that attacked us…in their foul tongue we heard that they'd been given orders to capture Legolas.'

Elrond became greatly troubled. He thanked Elessar and later, when the others had gone to bed, he told Gandalf and Galadriel what he had been told.

'It is as she told us,' Gandalf murmured. He glanced at Legolas' still form, then turned his gaze back to Elrond. 'Do you deny the will of Fate now, Master Elrond?'

---

Legolas awoke several hours later, his head reeling with pain. He attempted to rise from the bed but was stayed by a firm hand beside him. In the dim candlelight, he saw it was Lady Galadriel.

'You must rest, Legolas,' she said to him in Elvish. She handed him a mug of water, which he gratefully accepted. He drank quickly, wetting his parched mouth.

'What happened, Lady?' he asked hoarsely.

'You fell unconscious from your vision,' she replied. Her expression was full of concern. 'Do you remember what you dreamt?'

Legolas shook his head. 'The details are very vague…I cannot recall it entirely.' His head ached and his vision was blurry. He fell back onto the bed and into a dreamless sleep.

Galadriel lingered for a moment, deep in thought. _Once more, we become pawns of Fate. Once more, we must account for the mistakes of the past.__And in each instance, there are only more innocent victims._

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

**Post-It Note:** So this chapter wasn't overly exciting, I know. I tried to make up for that by using Merry and Pippin as a bit of comic relief, so I hope you at least enjoyed that.

The next couple chapters are kind of going to have to be filler chapters, unfortunately. The characters have a lot of traveling to do...I realized I'm pretty much sending them all over Middle-earth. XD Just wanted to forewarn you, so please, bear with me. I'll try and make it as interesting as possible.

Also, if you've enjoyed this fanfic so far, please feel free to leave a review on the way out. The three C's are always welcome: comments, compliments, and criticisms. Just no flames, please. Because, trust me--I have a great deal more fire power than you could possibly have.

Stayed tuned for another chapter--and, hopefully very soon, my next short story!

--Lady Galadriel_  
_


	11. Journey in Haste

It seemed that the rest of the company had gone to bed, yet it was not so. Elessar, Faramir, Gimli, and the Hobbits stayed awake late into the night, discussing amongst themselves.

'How is it possible that the Dark Lord had an Heir?' Faramir voiced incredulously. 'Why were we not told of this fourteen years ago?'

'Maybe no one knew about him,' Merry suggested.

Elessar shook his head. 'No, I do not believe that is the case,' said he. 'There is more to this than what we have been told.' He stood and began to pace about the room, then turned to Faramir. 'If this Heir is as dangerous as Sauron himself, then we cannot linger here any longer. We must return to Minas Tirith.'

Faramir nodded in agreement. 'We must make preparations to defend the city, and quickly. We do not know when this enemy will choose to strike, let alone what his plans are.'

'Isn't it obvious what his plans are?' Pippin asked. 'He wants to take over Middle-earth.'

'Don't they all?' Merry quipped.

'So it would seem,' said Gandalf as he entered into the room. His tone was light but his expression grave.

'You are right, Elessar,' he continued. 'We did know of Sauron's Heir, long ago. Hiding his existence was yet another mistake that we have to amend, but we did not believe he would follow in his father's footsteps. Unfortunately, that assumption will have a great cost on Middle-earth.

'There is indeed much to this tale, which will be told in good time. All that you must know now is that time has become a precious commodity. At first light we must depart for Rivendell, for there we will be safest.

'As for Minas Tirith, fear not for the city just yet. It is well protected.'

'What of Legolas?' Gimli inquired gruffly. 'Do you know the purpose of these visions, why the Orcs were after him?'

Gandalf seemed to ponder a moment, as if he were unsure if he should answer Gimli. 'Legolas has a great part to play,' he said quietly. 'It is vital that he is protected from the Enemy, otherwise we have no chance at survival.'

---

The hours passed in slow agony as Elrond sat in the darkness of the common room, brooding over the night's events. His mind was too restless to sleep; his conscience tortured by his folly.

All had proven true as it was foreseen, as he had been continuously told. The Evil of Sauron's Heir was too great for them alone to fight. But out of grief and resentment he had refused to acknowledge the truth. He was now forsworn of an oath he never should have taken, all because of the hate and anger he could not convince himself to abandon.

He hated her. He hated her with every fiber of his being for her actions, for her betrayal. For destroying the one he loved the most.

He heard the sound of a door being softly shut and smelled the distinct scent of pipe-weed.

'You cannot sleep as well?' asked Gandalf quietly. He sat in the chair opposite Elrond, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. 'It seems no one can. I have told the others of our plans to depart at first light.'

'I have been a fool, Gandalf,' said Elrond.

'If you call yourself a fool because you did not wish this to come to pass, then we have all been fools, my friend,' Gandalf replied. He remained silent for a moment before he spoke again. 'Do not condemn yourself for wanting to find another way. It is true, the desire was in vain, but at least it was not at the expense of others.'

'It might have been,' Elrond whispered, holding his head in his hands. 'I might have sacrificed the lives of thousands by my pride and anger.'

'It is not the time to think of what might have happened, Elrond,' Gandalf reminded sternly. 'We must focus on the present. Elessar has told us that Orcs have already begun to attack the people of Rohan and that Evil has made itself known in Mordor. We must plan the course of action to take within the little time that has been granted to us before we are confronted outright by the Dark Lord's Heir.'

Elrond did not respond. In the distance, he heard the cock crow, announcing the coming of the dawn before the Sun had even begun to rise.

Gandalf rose from the chair and stood before the window, finishing the last of his pipe. 'Our journey must be swift,' he remarked softly. 'Legolas is in danger, and she will be greatly weakened when we release her. They will both need the protection of Rivendell from Sauron's Heir.'

'Do you think he knows of the Lost One?'

'I am most certain of it, otherwise he would not have delayed his attack on Middle-earth. He is waiting until he finds it and gains its power. But in order to find it, he needs her; in order to release her, he needs Legolas. The pieces have already been set on the board and the stakes called. It is now a race on both sides to place the opponent in checkmate.'

'Can we even risk the journey to Rivendell, then, with so little time to waste?'

Gandalf sighed heavily. 'We must,' he replied. 'We have no choice.'

---

Not an hour had passed after the Sun had risen when the company made a hasty departure from Bree. They traveled along the Great East Road as quickly as the horses could gallop, leaving little time for questions or talk.

Legolas remained silent the entire time, out of confusion as well as contemplation. His memory of the night was dim; he struggled to retain the details of his vision, but it slipped through his mind like sand through the fingers. He only recalled darkness and how his forearm burned, yet when he looked there was no mark.

As the day wore on, he also remembered Gandalf's words: the Heir of Sauron. That was their new foe. _The phantom face_, he thought. _The violet eyes_. _Could it be him?_

It was well after sunset before they finally stopped for the night. The company set up camp in exhausted silence, grateful for the chance to rest. The night had grown cool, so Faramir and Gimli built a large fire to keep away the chill air and the heavy spirits. It was not long, however, before they all fell into a deep sleep.

They continued so for several days. Finally, on the fourth night after leaving Bree, Merry spoke up.

'Gandalf,' he began, 'you said there was more to the story of Sauron's Heir than what you had told us. Are we to keep traveling, then, without a word to each other, burning with curiosity?'

'It is not my tale to tell, Merry,' Gandalf replied, glancing at Elrond.

'I would certainly like to know this tale,' Legolas said, feeling his temper begin to rise. Everyone turned to him in surprise; it was the first time he had spoken since Bree. 'I would also like to know my part in this, and why no one has sought to explain anything to me.'

'You have not been told,' Galadriel responded softly, 'because it is a difficult tale to tell. The story of Sauron you were all told fourteen years ago did not hold the pain and loss that this one does. Nonetheless, your frustration is understandable. You must be told the truth.'

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**Post-It Note:** I tried to make this chapter longer. I really did. But I failed horribly. --sigh-- Oh well...I hope you all enjoyed it anyway. Stay tuned for more!

--Lady Galadriel


	12. A Story Unfolds

All eyes focused on Galadriel. She was an image of light and beauty yet one could clearly see the sorrow she possessed. For a moment she did not speak, but seemed to become briefly lost in her thoughts. Finally, she began to speak.

'It began long ago when the Elves, the First Children of Ilúvatar, awoke beneath the stars in Middle-earth. Many of the Eldar then traveled across the Sea to dwell in the Blessed Realm in the Light of the Trees. The first host of Elves to make this journey, called the Vanyar, was led by Ingwë, the High Elven King. He and his wife bore a daughter, one of the first Elves to be born in Aman. Her name was Tasarë, which means "willow maiden" in the Quenya tongue.

'Of all the Elves her appearance was most singular. She was not fair, like many born in Aman: her hair was dark and crimson like the setting Sun and her eyes as green as the Spring's new leaves. She was beautiful and proud. Many have said she looked very much like Yavanna, one of the Valar, who often appeared so when she walked in Middle-earth.

'Tasarë possessed a great love for the beauty of Aman and all that Yavanna had created of the earth. Because of this, Yavanna highly favored her above all the Elves and bestowed upon her power over the wonders of the earth. Often she traveled to Eldamar and created the gardens in the city of Tirion and those in Alqualondë as well. She was also greatly loved by the Eldar, and while I dwelt there we were good friends.

'After the rebellion of Fëanor against the Valar, many of the Elves left for Beleriand, the northern land of Middle-earth now lost beneath the Sea. Tasarë did not follow, but also wished to depart for Beleriand out of curiosity. Yet she would not do so unless she had the blessing of Yavanna and the other Valar.

'Many years passed before she sought permission from the Valar to leave the Blessed Realm. When she did, the Valar allowed Tasarë to depart with their blessing. She was given the gift of foresight, greater than any among the other Eldar who possessed it, for the Valar knew of the troubled times to come. The Valar also gave Tasarë the most powerful thing of all: Valya, the Ring of the Valar, the first ring ever to be forged in Arda.

'When Tasarë arrived in Beleriand she used the power of Valya to aid the Eldar against the evil of Morgoth. She also formed many marvels from the land so that Beleriand resembled the Blessed Realm as a comfort to those who yearned for Aman's light. She soon became a leader among the Elves and was greatly loved and respected by all. It was she who sent Eärendil to Valinor to plead with the Valar for aid against Morgoth in the War of Wrath. When Morgoth was at least defeated and Beleriand sunk beneath the Sea, the Valar summoned the Elves to Aman to pardon them. Many refused and remained in Middle-earth. Tasarë also stayed, for she perceived a lingering Darkness hidden in Middle-earth.

'For some time she dwelt with me in Lindon and later in Eregion. As time passed she grew more powerful and she sensed Sauron's presence when his Shadow arose in Mirkwood. Like Gil-galad and I, she was not deceived by his beautiful guise as Annatar and tried to expose him, but the Elves of Eregion did not heed our warnings. Later, Tasarë told me that Sauron recognized her from Aman and the wars of Beleriand. He had felt her great power and the power of Valya and tried to seduce her to his will.'

Lady Galadriel faltered for a moment, as if suddenly overcome with the pain of her memories, yet she continued her tale.

'She readily agreed to travel with me to Lórien and remained there for some time, helping to care for the daughter I had bore: Celebrían. She seemed to be at peace in the forests Lórien, but I soon I noticed that her mind was greatly troubled. I questioned her, and the answer she gave alarmed me greatly.

'She told me of a vision that kept recurring in her dreams of late. She foresaw that a great Evil would befall Middle-earth and shroud the land in Darkness. She foresaw that the Dark Lord Sauron would rise to great power, and in her attempts to battle him, she would fall into Darkness herself. She told me she would betray the Eldar and all of Middle-earth. I tried to convince her otherwise, that she would never betray us, but she only gave me a sad smile and replied, "Try as we might, we all become pawns of Fate."

'At that time I did not believe she would succumb to the vision she had foreseen. I believed that she would fight against the Darkness of Sauron and overcome it. For some time she did. When Sauron forged the Rings of Power and the One Ring, the Eldar knew who he was and immediately hid the Rings. Yet we still felt his Evil when he was in possession of the One Ring as he tried to corrupt us. I did not know this until some time after, but even Tasarë battled with the Dark Lord in her mind, for he was able to reach her through the power of Valya with the One Ring.'

'How could he do that,' Pippin interjected, 'if Valya was made by the Valar?'

'Valya was forged by the Vala Aulë, who Sauron served in Aman before he was corrupted by Morgoth,' Galadriel explained. 'Because Sauron knew many of the skills of Aulë, he was able to perceive the power of Valya, but only if he had the One Ring.

'Tasarë left Lórien to aid the forces of Gil-galad and Minastir of the Númenóreans against Sauron as he attacked Eregion and then Rivendell and Lindon. When Sauron was successfully defeated, she journeyed to Rivendell and dwelt there.'

Galadriel now turned to Elrond, as if her part of the tale was finished.

'She came to Rivendell seeking refuge from Sauron,' Elrond continued, his tone solemn. 'We had met in Eregion and it was there I saw her true display of power as we battled Sauron's forces. We became close friends and she confessed to me her struggles against the darkness. Rivendell seemed to offer her solitude and peace for some time while Sauron's forces were kept at bay. Yet when we heard his deceit had corrupted the Númenóreans our apprehension grew. I sensed in Tasarë a growing darkness; she became increasingly troubled and agitated.

'I tried to speak to her but she refused at first. Finally, she admitted to me that she had committed a horrible deed. During the battle of Eregion she had yielded to Sauron's power, allowing him to destroy the land and prevail against our forces. She begged for my forgiveness; she begged for me to help her…but I was so overcome with anger that I cast her away from Rivendell.

'Several weeks later, I heard news that she had been captured by Orcs in the Misty Mountains. I immediately regretted my actions and feared the worst. My fears were not unwarranted, either, for years later when Sauron attacked Minas Ithil and destroyed the White Tree, it was told that a woman with crimson hair accompanied the Dark Lord's armies.

'I came to despise her for her betrayal, and through my hate I sought to drive back Sauron, no matter how vain it seemed. The corrupted power of Valya gave Sauron unbelievable strength and he prevailed against our armies. Sauron's triumph over Middle-earth appeared to be inevitable.

'Yet not long after the Last Alliance was formed, Tasarë disappeared, and Sauron's armies grew weaker. Sauron was overthrown, the One Ring was lost, and many believed Evil had been destroyed. The mysterious woman that had sided with the Dark Lord was forgotten; very few still knew of Tasarë, for many of the Eldar had either fallen in battle or departed West across the Sea. I came to believe that perhaps she had been killed.

'In the year 1000 of the Third Age, the Wizards came to Middle-earth. Lady Galadriel and I were told that Sauron still survived and so did Tasarë. The Valar demanded that Tasarë be found and judged for her crimes.

'She was found in Mirkwood and brought before the Wizards and the last of the Elven lords who knew her. No longer was she the proud, beautiful Elf-woman I had known. Her spirit was broken and her body wasted. I denied all the pity that formed in my heart, refusing to let go of my hatred.

'She did not speak, but kept her eyes downcast. It was announced that the Valar had passed their judgment upon Tasarë: she was to be condemned to the Aramarth, the Outside Doom. It is a powerful spell that casts the victim from the realm of Arda into the Void, forever to be punished.

'Even then, Tasarë remained silent, as if she had resigned herself to her doom. I watched as the Wizards began the incantation. The words were of an ancient tongue that I had never heard spoken before. Tasarë's body began to glow with a fiery aura and she began to scream. Yet suddenly, she stopped, and she spoke loud and clearly her last prophecy in this world.

'She foresaw a time when Darkness would rise again in Middle-earth, a Darkness that could only be stopped through her doing. The Valar would call forth the one bearing their blessing and she would be summoned from the Void.'

'At that moment, she disappeared, banished into the Void. It was not until later when I was told the full extent of her crimes.' Elrond stopped for a moment, as if to regain his composure. 'The "Darkness" she spoke of was not Sauron, but his Heir—the son that she bore to the Dark Lord.'

'What of the Ring?' Elessar asked. 'What became of Valya?'

'It was never found,' Gandalf spoke. 'We can only assume that it was hidden by Tasarë, where only she can retrieve it.'

'What about the one who bears the Valar's Blessing?' asked Faramir. 'Where are we to find him?'

Suddenly Legolas recalled the entirety of his vision and reached for his arm, where she had touched him, revealing the strange rune mark. His arm began to burn.

_You are Blessed by the Valar…you are the one I foresaw so long ago…_

He looked to Elrond, who returned his gaze.

'It is you, Legolas,' Elrond whispered.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Post-It Note:** This chapter was more difficult to write than I anticipated. It was a pain keeping all the details straight according to the timeline (which, if you're interested, you can access via Wikipedia by searching "timeline of Arda").

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you're confused and have any questions, just let me know.

--Lady Galadriel


End file.
